


Breakable;Unbreakable

by TalkingIsJustAWasteOfBreath



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, and lots of sappy fluffy stuff bc episode 8 still has me very shook, bruised feet and a twisted anke;, dodegy knowlage of sports medicine, injury fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-09-01 20:14:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8636656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TalkingIsJustAWasteOfBreath/pseuds/TalkingIsJustAWasteOfBreath
Summary: “It’s nothing.” He’s trying to avoid Viktors gaze, trying to brush this off, trying to turn away from Viktor to open the door to his adjoining room (which he hasn’t even used once since they’ve been here because he’s slept with Viktor every night and woken up in the morning curled into his side and sighed into his neck in the most intimate of ways before falling asleep after every goddamn competition and-) but Viktor grabs his wrist and stops him, making it clear that there was no way in hell Yuuri Katsuki was getting away with hiding an injury from his coach, the world famous Viktor Nikiforvo who could melt hearts from a mile away and shatter the impossible over and over again.





	

**Author's Note:**

> hi i intended for this to be a 500 word feels post that would never reach the archive but 1000 words and some deep digging about what it feels like to confess something painful later here it is.
> 
> disclaimer: my knowlage of sports medicine is based purely upon what i know from reading too many angsty iwaoi fics and splitting my lip once while playing basketball in middle school. which means that i may or may not be spelling espom salts right and im not even sure if they help with sprained ankels so don't expect many accurices on that front.
> 
> my knowlage of russian also consists of being able to read about half of the cyrillic alphabet and asking where the bathroom is so I have no idea if дорогой really means darling or not.
> 
> enjoy!

“You’ve been hurt,” is what Viktor first says when they walk in the hotel room door, breath heavy and heart aching. Trying to ignore the small winces from Yuuri every time he takes a step, the sighs of pain that bury little shards of glass into his heart every time he breaths.

“It’s nothing.” He’s trying to avoid Viktors gaze, trying to brush this off, trying to turn away from Viktor to open the door to his adjoining room (which he hasn’t even used once since they’ve been here because he’s slept with Viktor every night and woken up in the morning curled into his side and sighed into his neck in the most intimate of ways before falling asleep after every goddamn competition and-) but Viktor grabs his wrist and stops him, making it clear that there was no way in hell Yuuri Katsuki was getting away with hiding an injury from his ~~boyfriend~~ coach, the world famous Viktor Nikiforvo who could melt hearts from a mile away and shatter the impossible over and over again.

“Yuuri,” Viktor says in a low voice as he tugs him toward the bed, “Yuuri. You can’t hide this from me.”

Yuuri doesn’t say anything, just lets Viktor sit him down on the bed and watches with glassy eyes as Viktor kneels in front of him and takes his hands, letting his long fingers run over the dry skin of Yuuri’s knuckles. He refuses to meet Viktor’s eyes, so Viktor settles for letting his eyes linger on the delicate shade of his lips instead, trying to think of something to say, of anything to say to make Yuuri tell him what’s wrong.

“You haven’t had any major injuries yet, have you?” Yuuri shakes his head and bites down on his lip, the glass in his eyes threatening to overflow. It makes Viktor’s heart ache again; he isn’t used to seeing someone he cared so much about be in such a state of pain. “Yuu-ri.” Viktor drags out the last syllable of his name, rolling the r in his ever-enduring accent. “Won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

Yuuri tightens his grip on Viktor’s hands suddenly and visible flinches, tears finally spilling out over his cheeks. “Its…nothing. Not exactly. Nothing huge, but I- “His voice sounds small and strained. “Viktor, I- “

“Shhh, Yuuri, it’s alright, it’s okay, you can tell me anything-“Viktor is grasping desperately at Yuuri’s wrists now, thumbs aligned with Yuuri’s pulse so he can feel each and every frantic beat of his heart.

“My feet, they…they’re so bruised I can barely walk on them now and I think I might have a minor sprain in my left ankle and there are bruises all along my legs from flubbing my jumps and it just…it just _hurts._ ”

_Hurts too much to walk. Hurts too much to talk. Hurts too much to even mention something as stupid as this to you because your Viktor Nik-fucking-forvo who’s probably had ten times worse and still gone and powered through every practice and every jump with a smile on your fucking face._

Viktor’s fingers fly from Yuuri’s wrists to the laces on his shoes and he starts to untie them as quick as he can, carefully slipping Yuuri’s shoes and socks from his feet to expose the bare skin, mottled and colored in such a way that Viktor isn’t sure how the hell he couldn’t have noticed them before. His left ankle is swollen around the joint in a fashion that Viktor is too familiar with for words (because how many times had he twisted his ankle, how many times had he tried to hobble on to the rink to practice before Yakov forced him off of the ice and brought him a cold pack to sit with while he watched the rest of his rink mates).

“Do you mind if I…?”

Yuuri sniffs and brings his hands to his face, brushing his hair out of his face nervously. “Yea. I-Its fine.”

Viktor gently places his fingers on the swollen joint and presses down softly, stopping when he hears Yuuri wince and dig his fingers into the cheap hotel comforter. It wasn’t bad, like Yuuri had said, but it would still be a bitch to walk on and unless Yuuri would wrap hid ankle and take some medication, a bitch to skate on too. The bruises and rawness on his feet was to be expected with the difficulty of the programs he was doing and the rate at which Viktor knew he was pushing himself at, but a soak with hot water and Epsom salts should help reduce the pain a bit, if not relax the muscles around his sprained ankle. Epsom salts. Had he brought Epsom salts? He used to always have them in his bag for competitions, but Viktor wasn’t sure if he’d brought them on this trip or left them back in his room in Japan-

“Viktor.”

Yuuri’s stopped crying now, but his hands are shaking slightly and he’s still refusing to meet Viktor’s eyes for more than a few fleeting seconds. Viktor’s heart lurches when he takes in fully the swollen red of his eyes and the dried traces of glass tears on his cheeks, but Yuuri still gives him a small ,fake gleam  of a smile when he sees Viktor looking.

“You don’t have to do anything, really. I think I’ll be fine. You shouldn’t have to worry about something as stupid as me getting banged up a little on the ice- “

Yuuri is stubborn. This Viktor knows. Yuuri is also brave and outstanding and never ever wants to bother someone else with something he thinks he can suffer through by himself, which is why Viktor stands, leans in close, presses a kiss to Yuuri’s collarbone (brain fogging up when he realizes how close the delicate skin of Yuuri’s neck is and how good he smells) and whispers, “It’s my job to worry, _дорогой._  I’m your coach and your lover. I worry about you because I want to see you succeed and I worry about you because I love you. It hurts me to see you hurt and it pains me to see you in pain so know that I will always _always_ worry about you and care about you no matter what you do or what you tell me and I don’t mind at all, being in love with you or caring or worrying or thinking about you all of the time.”

_I don’t mind it, being in love with you. I don’t know how the hell I’ve gone so long without the comfort of someone like you constantly being at my side and by god I never want to lose you, but if it was what you wanted, I would let you go without saying a thing. Do…do you understand?_

Viktor can feel Yuuri’s heartbeat against his lips even as he pulls away and looks up to see Yuuri finally look him in the eye for more than a second, the adoration and admiration so clear in his eyes that it steals the breath from Viktors lips.

“I think an ice pack, an ankle wrap, and a foot soak is in order, my little katsudon. What do you say?”

Yuuri finally gives Viktor the first real smile he’s had all night and murmurs a small yes as Vitkor pulls him to his feet, letting Vitktor shoulder all of his weight as he leads him to the bathroom.

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first fic I've written that i feel really lived up to the depth of viktor and yuuri's relationship so im honestly pretty proud of the peice of writing.
> 
> comments and kudos are my lifeblood. pls. they keep me going. if you enjoyed this fic or would like to tell me how to actually say darling in russian please leave me a comment below!!
> 
> you can find me on twitter and tumblr as @mysenpaiisdead


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